JP’s historic restoration carpentry has continued to be a baseline for his relationship to music; the yin to his yang, the Burt to his Ernie, the Dolly to his Porter. It was through this concurrent line of work that he met another twice-initialed singer with a penchant for old Americana music, obscure film, and overly elaborate ethnic meal preparations: one JD McPherson. The two became fast friends and would eventually, through many twists, turns, false starts, and biblically-proportionate plagues, enter a modest studio in Nashville to record Harris’ latest album.

Over the course of nine months in 2023, they recorded a sometimes lush, sometimes sparse, and sometimes jarring country album of Harris’ originals, loudly and violently squelching any attempt to pigeon-hole a song into any subgenre of country music. Only albums by Lee Hazelwood and an obscure folk album Waylon Jennings made when his hair was still short were allowed to be mentioned in reference. Featuring the guest vocals of Erin Rae, The Watson Twins, Shovels & Rope, and producer JD McPherson himself, the record is equal parts satire, reflection, and apology to those that would listen.

In a musical landscape of period-correct reproduction, “outlaw” internet posturing, and flavor-of-the-month variants on country,

“JP Harris Is A Trash Fire” burns bright as a dumpster in a Walmart parking lot on a moonless night; some will fear it, some will gravitate to its acrid warmth, and most will have no idea what to make of the situation. Harris has been steadily elbowing the definitive boundaries of “country music” wider with every album, both sonically and lyrically, and his latest piece of self described “Avant-Country” is no exception.